


Screwed

by flootzavut, shewho



Series: Orientation (College and Otherwise) [1]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Art, CUverse, College AU, First Kiss, First Time, Humour, Life Drawing, M/M, Mild Angst, Romance, Sex, Smut, Stupid college boyfriends, UST, queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15777201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/pseuds/flootzavut, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewho/pseuds/shewho
Summary: Take life drawing, they said. It'll be fun, they said.There will be naked girls, they said.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onekisstotakewithme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/gifts), [shewho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewho/gifts), [grumpyfaceurn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyfaceurn/gifts).



> For many and varied contributions to this story and this 'verse ♥️
> 
> (Suggestions for a series title on a postcard to the usual address ;) yes, there will be sequels.)
> 
> If you want to come talk all things MASH, please join us in [the Swamp](https://discord.gg/H5nHFr4), for the finest kind of fandoming.

* * *

_**Screwed** _

* * *

 

"Hunnicutt," his student advisor had said, "drama club in high school is not a transferable credit. Take beginning portraiture or life-drawing; draw muscles and shit. Your anatomy prof will be impressed."

So BJ's sitting here in his first real art class, feeling out of place and enormously uncomfortable. He wonders if there's anyone else here who's as inexperienced as he is, who hasn't even drawn a stick figure since elementary school. It seemed like a good idea at the time; as a transfer, he wants to catch up with requirements before he becomes a junior.

But now he's surrounded by people with well worn tins of drawing supplies, half-full sketchbooks, ink stains on their hands, and he feels like a fraud with his #1 and #2 pencils (it never occurred to him before that #2 pencils must be part of a range), and a pad of paper he bought yesterday on advice from the guy in the art shop who seemed highly entertained by his ignorance.

It doesn't help that all the other students look so young, too; they're all freshmen, and he not only feels clueless and inexperienced, but also a little like he's gone back to grade school as an adult - or like a big dumb jock who's been held back three times and is being outsmarted by kids half his size.

He fiddles with his two pencils and his small eraser and sharpener, trying not to seem like he wandered into the wrong classroom by mistake.

It's a relief when another older student appears, and even though he immediately starts talking to the teacher, with whom he's obviously familiar, at least BJ won't be the only sophomore in the room. Maybe as well as fulfilling requirements he can make a friend who's in a similar position.

BJ studies the stranger, and can't help noticing he's - well, hot. He has jet black hair and a pale, pretty face, and he's wearing a ratty maroon robe but he manages to pull it off, somehow. BJ doesn't stare exactly, but he looks. He very much looks. The man moves with assurance, almost feline, even though he has a slouch that would impress a grouchy teenager. On closer inspection, he's probably a little older than BJ, maybe even a senior. He's not handsome, exactly, but he's... striking. Pretty. Decidedly attractive.

Once he's finished talking with the professor, he catches BJ's eye; BJ can't look away, especially when he smiles slowly. He's... fuck. BJ doesn't hear what the teacher says, he's too busy being captivated by that bright blue. He gulps when the man checks him out shamelessly then turns his smile up another thousand watts. Oh God, this guy's  _really_  pretty. And he's not looking away either.

Maybe imagining a friendship was an underestimate on BJ's part.

BJ doesn't notice the man is barefoot, it doesn't occur to him to wonder till the teacher says, "Get comfortable, Hawkeye, then we'll start." The man -  _Hawkeye_  - throws another grin BJ's way, and BJ's ears start to burn when Hawkeye slips out of his robe to reveal a slender, wiry, but above all very naked body.

 _Fuck_.

College has been an eye-opener for BJ Hunnicutt. The realisation he's attracted to guys as well as girls is still a fairly new one, and not one he got to explore much in the last year. A stranger unexpectedly getting naked right in front of him is a very long way out of his comfort zone.

(But Hawkeye really is fucking gorgeous. BJ gawks.)

The teacher starts making suggestions about how they tackle drawing _the extremely hot naked man_. BJ hopes he's not missing anything too important, but he can _not_  tear his attention away from Hawkeye's body, and every time he looks up, Hawkeye's eyes are on him again.

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and shifts on the balls of his feet, trying to settle himself. This is... totally doable. He can do this. He can.

At least his hands are steady. That's a start.

"Don't get put off by the complexity of the human body," the teacher says, like BJ can just turn off his intense awareness of Hawkeye's nakedness. "The technical skills for drawing an apple and drawing a person aren't so different. Look for familiar shapes, figure out accurate proportions. It's easier than it looks."

Frankly, BJ doesn't believe a word of it, but maybe if he breaks Hawkeye down into shapes and lines, it'll feel less intimate to sit here staring at him. It has to be worth a try.

So he tries. Hawkeye, it seems, is an awful lot of long lines disrupted by sharp angles. There's the slope of his shoulders, the divot where his collarbones meet at the base of his throat. The crests of his hip bones, sharp against his tapered waist, and the repeating curves of his ribcage, which expand and contract hypnotically under BJ's gaze. His fingers are bony, and his wrists look incongruously delicate attached to the ends of those long, sinewy arms. The unexpected girth of his thighs in contrast with skinny legs. The shadowed gap between the patella and the tibia.

(None of this makes the task less daunting or Hawkeye less attractive.)

There's more - the flat of his stomach, the soft slump of his cock (God, his cock), the yellow-green faded remnants of a hickey just below the point of his jaw - but most intriguing of all is his face.

Even though he's laid himself out on the deceptively long couch in the same pose BJ's seen recumbent harem girls and forest nymphs strike in every art history book he's ever cracked and every gallery he's ever visited - careless and languid as a cat in a puddle of sunshine - Hawkeye's face is alive with purpose as his eyes roam the classroom, flicking in small half-circles before coming back to rest on BJ.

His lips twitch into a tiny half-smile (or more accurately, a smirk) when he catches BJ's eye for what feels like the hundredth time but is probably only the sixth, but BJ dials in determinedly on the perfect teardrop of Hawkeye's philtrum and avoids the plush mouth below it.

(This is going to be a very long semester.)

Oh, God. Who's he fooling? BJ has no idea what to do with himself,  _can't_  keep his gaze away from Hawkeye's lips. Hawkeye lounges insouciantly, apparently at ease with a classroom full of students staring at his body, while BJ can barely deal with looking at him but also can't stop.

How does Hawkeye do that? How can he act like a contented cat when a whole roomful of people can see every inch of him? How is he this brave and this brazen? BJ is amazed and impressed and very turned on.

Then again, it's possible Hawkeye isn't thinking about any of the others; he's looking at BJ again and -  _fuck_  - biting his bottom lip then sucking on it, enough that it's clearly deliberate without being completely obvious to everyone in the room. It's making BJ want to loosen his collar and take a long, cool drink of water. Does he have a sign on his forehead that says 'I recently realised I'm queer, please hit on me'?

(Does the gorgeous stranger just think BJ's hot?)

He looks back down at his pad. He really needs to start drawing something. Anything. Anything at all.

BJ's experimentation has been discreet and tentative, though it was enough to discover that kissing a man is as exciting and enjoyable as kissing a woman, but if he's any judge at all, Hawkeye wants to do far more than kiss. BJ is simultaneously terrified and painfully excited.

Whatever that expression means, though, BJ's here for a class; he needs to get good enough at drawing to at least pass. He can't let himself get distracted by how much he wants to lick Hawkeye's abs and nibble his nipples and- no really,  _fuck_. BJ is royally screwed.

* * *

The first hour is torture, exquisite torture. Literally every time he looks up, Hawkeye is staring at him, blue eyes piercing and mouth slightly open. And so...  _naked_.

BJ's never sat and stared at a naked man before. He's seen guys naked, of course, in locker rooms and showers, roommates and housemates who had no modesty gene, but he's never looked like this, never stared, never had an excuse never mind an obligation to try and absorb every detail of a nude body, male or female. It feels so intimate. He can't concentrate enough to do anything but make a few half-hearted marks on the paper; the idea of Hawkeye on the page, of touching him, even an inadequate pencil copy, is too much. BJ needs a cold shower, stat.

His gaze wanders down to Hawkeye's crotch again, and lingers there a for a long moment until he suddenly realises where he is and what he's doing, and oh,  _God_. He glances up, and Hawkeye's staring at him still, a definite smirk on his lips now, one that could light half the state, and sex smouldering in his eyes.

BJ was all psyched up to spend an hour staring at a naked woman and doing his best to ignore her... physical attributes. He was in no way prepared for the model to be a guy, let alone one who's sending him the least subtle signals in the history of sex.

(Not that staring at Hawkeye's penis is exactly BJ's most subtle moment.)

He needs to find a reasonably innocuous spot to focus on, something he can attempt to draw instead of sitting here and wondering what it would be like to wrap his fingers around Hawkeye's limp cock and touch and stroke and feel it grow hard and hot, and fuck, how the hell is he supposed to concentrate?

Nowhere on Hawkeye's body seems to be truly safe, but BJ picks Hawkeye's left knee and tries to ignore the leg it's attached to, focusing instead on the way the skin stretches over the patella, trying to translate all his knowledge of how bone and muscle articulate into an accurate picture of what he can see in front of him.

 _God_ , he wants to touch so badly. The image in his mind is so sharp, so vivid, he can practically feel Hawkeye's skin under his fingers. He can certainly imagine tracing the lines of Hawkeye's musculature, how he thinks (hopes) Hawkeye would react, the way Hawkeye would arch into his touch and whine with need, how he'll lean down to trace Hawkeye's clavicle with his tongue, the sigh of need and relief that'll make him grin when he finally touches Hawkeye's cock...

 _Fuck_. To say BJ is screwed was an understatement of epic proportions. He's stopped thinking in possibilities and started thinking in probabilities, not if he ever gets to touch Hawkeye but when. And, perhaps more damningly, he absolutely cannot stop himself from wondering what it would (will) be like to take Hawkeye's soft cock in his mouth and make it hard again.

* * *

He's starting - finally - to get over his self-consciousness and be able to focus on drawing without being distracted by the nakedness when the teacher calls for a break.

It's terrible timing. The last thing BJ needs is to be reminded the subject he's drawing is an actual (really hot) person rather than a series of curves and angles, muscle and bone and ligament.

Or perhaps the last thing he needs is to come out from behind his desk when he has no guarantee his body will behave.

Hawkeye throws him a wink, and BJ only just manages to stifle his whimper. He really, really doesn't know how to handle this. Developing a massive crush in the space of half a class is a new experience; it messes with his head even more when the object of his crush is absolutely naked and BJ has been staring at him for over an hour. Oh, and when said crush is a man.

Between the looks Hawkeye's been throwing him and the fierce physical attraction, BJ both wants desperately to talk to Hawkeye and has absolutely no idea where to start. If Hawkeye would just stop being so goddamn naked... if BJ could get over having stared at his naked body... how in hell is BJ supposed to deal with this? His mouth is dry and he's on the verge of hyperventilating.

 _You're ridiculous_ , he tells himself. It doesn't help.

Hawkeye grins, mischievous and beautiful, then turns to don his robe and exchange a few words with the teacher. BJ sees his chance, scooting to the back of the room where various easels and display stands are set up. He hides behind the largest one he can find and hopes Hawkeye was too distracted by his face to notice his pants or his shoes.

He feels like an idiot, but he's pretty sure he'd behave like an idiot if he actually tried to have a conversation with Hawkeye; at least this way, he won't make himself look like an idiot  _in front of_  the really hot guy.

He stares at the large canvas on the easel and tries to study it, or at least look like he's studying it. If anyone finds him, he should appear to have a reason to be back here beyond behaving like a child.

Mostly, though, he's calming his breathing, trying (and failing) not to brood about Hawkeye, and hoping like hell he'll survive the rest of the class without embarrassing himself any more than he already has.

He's starting to think he's gotten away with it when a warm, low voice interrupts his reverie.

"Hey."

He has a bad feeling, which is confirmed when he looks over and finds Hawkeye peering around the easel, his expression quizzical but friendly.

"Uh, hi," BJ manages.

"Are you hiding from me?" Hawkeye asks, with a mixture of amusement and bemusement.

BJ opens his mouth (though he has no idea what he plans to say besides 'um'), but then the teacher is calling the class back to their seats, calling Hawkeye over, and BJ sags in both relief and disappointment when Hawkeye gives him a wink and a shrug before strolling off back to his chaise.

BJ follows, unable to take his eyes off of Hawkeye as he slips the robe off again. Fuck, he's beautiful. BJ gets his first eyeful of Hawkeye's backside, then forces himself to look away and sit down at his desk.

He's a strange mixture of relieved and disappointed when Hawkeye doesn't lay back into that boneless sprawl from before. This time he's sitting facing away from BJ, head turned to one side. BJ was enjoying the front view, but it might be easier to concentrate on his drawing without Hawkeye's eyes finding his every time he glances up.

(The possibility of ogling Hawkeye's body without being observed has nothing to do with it, really it doesn't.)

Hawkeye's ass is decidedly worthy of note, but BJ gets distracted by the elegant, fluid line of Hawkeye's spine, the black hair cut long at the nape of his neck, the way his back curves gracefully down to the dimples above his buttocks ( _fossae lumbales laterales_ , BJ's brain supplies automatically).  _God_ , he's gorgeous.

It takes several minutes of staring before BJ remembers he's here to do more than drool and starts putting pencil to paper.

Now he's not distracted by Hawkeye watching him, all but pouting at him, he manages a little more drawing. He also has the chance to study Hawkeye's profile, his slightly too long nose, the way his hair curls temptingly around his ear, the line of his jaw.

He has a nice mouth, full lips (especially for a guy) that look soft and smooth. BJ indulges himself for a moment in wondering how those lips taste, but has to drag himself back to his drawing when he starts imagining Hawkeye's tongue wrapped around his cock instead.

It's still incredibly hard to concentrate. BJ finds himself staring again at where Hawkeye's back meets his ass. He wants to slide his thumbs down Hawkeye's spine, slowly, a long tease, and into those dimples, fitting them in neatly on either side. Hawkeye arching into the touch, BJ burying his nose in that silky black hair that looks so soft, taking a deep lungful of Hawkeye's scent. God, he wants to dig his teeth into Hawkeyes trapezius, trace Hawkeye's scapula with his tongue. Explore Hawkeye's body thoroughly and intimately with hands and mouth.

It's not an entirely new feeling, Hawkeye is hardly the first person BJ's found attractive, nor even the first man, but the intensity of it is startling. Wondering how Hawkeye's skin might taste is making BJ's mouth water, and if he doesn't get a hold of himself by the time the class ends, he's going to have to hold his bag strategically to hide his hard-on and sprint back to his dorm in search of privacy.

He has no idea how these things work. Will they have a new model next class? Will BJ get a chance to talk to Hawkeye when the newness of it all isn't messing with his head, or is today his one and only opportunity?

Would it be too strange to ask the professor if the same model stays on for the whole semester? How long will it take for BJ to summon up the guts to do something about this gnawing attraction?

Fuck, why did their model have to be so goddamn pretty? And so  _male_.

When the lesson draws to a close, BJ is both regretful and relieved. He wants to stare at Hawkeye forever, but the longer this goes on, the more likely it is he'll make a fool of himself.

Hawkeye engages the teacher in conversation again, apparently utterly unselfconscious (BJ will never get over that), and BJ might actually get out of here unscathed... or no more scathed than he already is.

He takes a deep breath and allows himself one last long sweeping glance at Hawkeye's body, except Hawkeye has moved, has turned, is looking back over his shoulder, and he grins widely at BJ, smug as a cat, grins wider still when BJ catches his eye.

 _Oh, shit_.

BJ is not remotely ready for this. He flees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Grumpyfaceurn for proofreading this chapter and making me feel good about it by screenching at me :D

The second class is no less mortifying or arousing, and BJ would swear he can  _feel_  Hawkeye watching him. His ears are hot and he keeps licking his lips without realising what he's doing until Hawkeye catches his eye and sucks on his own lip in a way that's unmistakably flirtatious - slow and deliberate and sensuous.

At least Hawkeye clearly isn't at all bothered by BJ's unintentional attention. If anything, he appears to be revelling in it, smirking whenever he catches BJ looking at him with less than artistic detachment, smouldering at BJ with sultry eyes, and being, well, very very naked. (The latter is not flirting per se, but it might as well be. Hawkeye apparently has remarkable self-control, since his cock has remained soft and unassuming during some pretty intense eye-sex, but that hasn't stopped BJ sporting an erection that's borderline painful.)

It's hard for BJ to concentrate, especially since he keeps running out of safe parts of Hawkeye to draw. It's not even that he's drawing particularly fast or that he's drawn everything except the R-rated bits, but more that if he stares at one part of Hawkeye's body for long enough, he feels an overwhelming urge to nibble on it.

(He never knew elbows and kneecaps and skinny, bony shoulders could be so sexy, or that he could get turned on by the arch of a person's foot.)

There's another hickey on Hawkeye's neck, probably only a day or so old, and BJ does his best to suppress the flair of jealousy at whoever apparently got to bite Hawkeye this week. If anyone knew what was happening in his head, he'd be embarrassed at his covetousness; as it is, he just wants to bang his head on his desk a few times at his own absurdity. He took this class out of necessity, it was supposed to be easy and uncomplicated, and here he is, unable to stay on task because he's so distracted by an attractive man.

He tries to focus on the anatomy he's here to practise, naming tendons and muscles and bones - patella, tibia, fibula, anterior cruciate ligament, and on and on, they snap through his mind like dominos falling - but he's not nearly as interested in drawing Hawkeye's knee as he is in nipping at the soft place behind the joint to see if it'll make Hawkeye moan.

When the teacher gives them a five minute break again, BJ hightails it out of the classroom and to the restroom across the way. (He's a little disappointed Hawkeye doesn't follow him there to proposition him, and at the same time hates himself for his disappointment.) He sits in the cubicle for four and a half minutes, head in hands, trying not to think about how ridiculous it is that he's hiding from his crush. (Wasn't he supposed to grow out of this after middle school?)

Hawkeye flashes BJ a smile and a raised eyebrow when he gets back to his desk just in time to start drawing again; BJ blushes furiously, staring at his sketchbook and wishing for a freak power outage so Hawkeye won't be able to see his face. When he risks looking up again, he's (mostly) relieved that he now has a view of Hawkeye's back, and Hawkeye has no view of him whatsoever. Both drawing and gawking are far easier without his subject throwing lascivious looks at him.

There's no question, though - sooner or later, BJ is going to have to do something about his highly inconvenient crush. Staring at Hawkeye's back is less viscerally embarrassing than staring at his front, but no less enticing. Hawkeye's all long lines and delicate bones and an odd kind of fragility, and there's not an inch of him BJ doesn't want to touch.

* * *

When the class is over, BJ congratulates himself on not being a complete embarrassment and on having some small scraps of dignity left, even if it's only that he didn't spend quite as long staring longingly at Hawkeye's penis this week.

One of his pencils rolls off the desk, and if BJ were less distracted and aroused and relieved, he'd probably shrug and get the hell out of there, but instead he leans down to get it. When he sits up again, Hawkeye's standing in front of his desk, smirking, and BJ's mouth goes dry.

"Hi," Hawkeye says, his voice warmer and sexier than anyone should be able to manage on one syllable.

"Hi." BJ, by contrast, sounds like a teenager whose voice hasn't finished breaking.

Hawkeye's smirk widens into an amused smile, like he's thoroughly delighted by BJ's discombobulation. "Enjoy the lesson?"

 _Did I enjoy staring at your naked body and imagining what I'd do with you if we were alone? Yes, yes I did. I'd quite like to lick you, if you don't mind_. Surely Hawkeye must realise BJ's been checking him out?

All BJ can manage is to nod.

"So, can I buy you a coffee?" Hawkeye says, with roughly the same intonation a regular person would use to invite someone for a dirty weekend. (BJ is starting to think that Hawkeye is anything but a regular person.)

BJ looks around, and is enormously relieved to find all his classmates have either gone or are in conversation with each other and the teacher. "I, um, uh." His cheeks are burning again.

Hawk grins. "Don't worry, I'll put some clothes on first." There's a glint of mischief in his expression as he leans down over BJ's desk, hands braced by BJ's elbows, invading BJ's space. His robe gapes, giving BJ an eyeful of pale pectoral muscles that he desperately wants to touch. "It's so much more fun to get naked than to start that way," Hawkeye breathes.

It may not be medically possible, but BJ would swear his heart stops for a moment. Then it's back and pounding, his blood is rushing in his ears, and it takes all his willpower not to pull Hawkeye into a kiss right here.

What the hell  _is_  this? BJ's new at admitting to himself when he's attracted to a man, but regardless of gender, he isn't at all used to feeling like he's an iron filing being pulled irresistibly towards a magnet.

"So, coffee?" Hawkeye asks again. There's a twinkle in his eyes; he's very entertained.

BJ's fairly certain Hawkeye's teasing him, but he's weak, and apparently incapable of saying no. "Sure."

The smile he gets in response is a more than adequate reward.

* * *

BJ doesn't know what he expected, but being taken to a coffeeshop off campus is a nice change of scene, and also makes him slightly less nervous. He hasn't exactly dated men before (if this is a date, something he's yet to work out), he hasn't dated anybody since he arrived here, and being seen on potentially-a-date with the model from his life drawing class isn't his first choice of ways to let people know he's queer. (His plan, in fairness, was not to let anyone know unless it became an issue. He did not expect Hawkeye to happen to him.)

They sit at a relatively secluded table with their coffees, and Hawkeye grins at him. "You're extremely cute, do you know that?"

BJ blushes. "Thanks?"

Hawkeye laughs, dips his finger in the foam of his coffee, then licks it off. (Slowly. BJ is mesmerised.) "I don't see the point of pretending," he says. "You're very attractive." He looks BJ up and down. " _Very_  attractive."

His forwardness is both unnerving and unnervingly hot. BJ blushes even harder. The only thing he can think of to say is 'So are you', but he's a little afraid it'll come out as 'Oh God, you're really pretty' or 'I can't believe I got to see you naked', or some other embarrassing variation he won't even think of until it's tumbling out of his mouth.

Hawkeye props his chin on one hand and smiles lazily as he looks at BJ some more. "Cute, but a little bit shy. Am I right, BJ Hunnicutt?"

"How- how do you know my name?"

Hawkeye's smile widens. "Perks of being friends with the teacher," he says. "Plus, the class register. You're the only transfer student."

BJ blinks. "How did you know I was a transfer?"

"Because if you were on this campus last year, I would know you already." It comes out as a low purr. BJ can't figure out exactly what makes it a come on, besides the tone of voice, but it's unmistakably a come on.

"Oh."

Hawkeye reaches out and strokes his finger down the side of BJ's face, so lightly and teasingly, BJ shivers. Holy shit, is he in trouble.

"Oh, I would definitely know if you were here," Hawkeye says again. "I would never have missed  _you_."

It's obvious Hawkeye doesn't just mean he'd know who BJ is. BJ would protest his presumption, but even as an older, theoretically wiser person than he was last year, he doesn't think he'll be able to resist whatever Hawkeye has in mind. His freshman-year self would have been toast. "Oh," he says again.

Hawkeye smirks. "Well, here I am, and here you are, and there's no time like the present to... get to know each other."

 _How do you politely ask someone to push you up against the nearest wall and kiss you stupid?_  The whole smug confidence routine should be infuriating, but it's not. BJ is doomed. "Are models and students even allowed to sleep together?" he asks. It's not that he wants a get-out clause, but if he's risking his college career here, he'd like to know in advance.

Hawkeye looks amused. "Well for starters, I'm not your teacher. I'm not even staff, or a TA" He leans in to speak directly in BJ's ear. "And more pertinently, I'd like to point out that I'm not the one assuming we'll be sleeping together on the first date."

BJ's cheeks turn so hot, so quick, it's a wonder he has enough blood left for the renewed erection that is his body's reaction to Hawkeye's proximity, the heat of Hawkeye's breath and skin. "Uh." God, he walked into that one, and he can't even regret it, because  _fuck_.

When Hawkeye pulls out of BJ's personal space (BJ can breathe again, but he still wants to haul Hawkeye back in close), his smirk is even wider. "Not that I'm opposed, you understand."

"So this is... uh... a date?"

Hawkeye blinks at him for a second, taken aback (the first time BJ's seen that), then slaps his hand to his forehead. "Jesus, are you usually this dense when people are hitting on you?"

BJ shrugs a shoulder. At this point, he has very little coolth or credibility left to lose. "Kinda?"

That gets him a wild cackle, a laugh that bursts out of Hawkeye and can probably be heard by people three streets away. (BJ is sort of proud of himself.) His whole body lights up with it, and BJ can't help laughing too.

"You," Hawkeye says, when he's gotten his breath back a little, "I like you."

BJ grins. "I like you too, Hawkeye." It comes out a little more raw and honest than he's comfortable with. He seems to have gotten in deep and fast here, but it's very hard to care.

Hawkeye smiles softly. "You can call me Hawk," he says, holding BJ's gaze.

It feels much more intimate, much more meaningful, than it seems like it should, but Hawkeye's smile has lost any edge of sarcasm or mischief. Whatever it is, whatever it means, this permission to shorten his name, it's genuine and important to Hawkeye - to Hawk.

"Hawk," BJ repeats obediently, and there it is again, that warm, sincere look. "I'm just BJ," he adds. "I guess it's already kind of a nickname. An embarrassing one." He shrugs a shoulder. "I don't know what my parents were thinking, to be honest."

The mischief is back in Hawkeye's face. "Maybe they knew you weren't gonna be straight."

How much can a person blush before it becomes permanent? It doesn't help that BJ's entertained several fantasies in the last week of Hawkeye's cock, of how hard it would get in his mouth. He's never done that, never gotten far enough, but he's been eager to make up for lost time ever since he first saw Hawkeye naked; he never saw a cock and immediately wanted to suck on it before, but _God_.

"I, uh..." He gulps. "I guess I haven't really lived up to that very well," he admits.

Hawkeye draws his bottom lip into his mouth and looks down, as if he can see through the table and into BJ's pants, as if he's assessing what he finds there. "There's always time," he murmurs.

God, BJ wants Hawk to look at him like that for real. He wishes he were braver.  _Maybe you could teach me_. No, BJ just isn't that brazen, even though he wants to be. Even though every time he sees Hawkeye's cock, he wonders what it looks like hard. What it feels like. What it tastes like. He's both thrilled and terrified at the idea he might find out, but he's not ready to admit he wants to.

He still doesn't know how Hawk can sit in front of a room full of people and stay so cool. Especially since BJ's pretty sure he loves it.

It's BJ's turn to look through the table. At least here, he has an advantage, since he's spent a good six hours staring at Hawkeye's body. "How do you, uh... um..."

"How do I not get an erection when I have a room full of people staring at me, attention which I obviously enjoy?"

BJ nods, cheeks burning.

"Especially when one of them is an extremely cute boy who keeps blushing and can't take his eyes off of me?"

BJ wonders if it's possible to die of embarrassment.

"Easy, really. That little room I change in? I jerk off in there right before the lesson."

BJ gulps again at the sudden,  _vivid_  mental image of Hawk masturbating with a class full of people (with BJ) just the other side of the door. "Oh," he croaks.

Hawkeye smiles the filthiest smile BJ's ever seen. "I mean, there are other tricks I've picked up along the way, and I'm not entirely lacking in self-control." Hawk moves closer and puts his hand on BJ's leg under the table; BJ practically jumps out of his skin. "And it helps I know I can go home right after for a long, hot, soapy shower, and fantasise about whatever I want as I touch myself," he breathes, right in BJ's face, as he strokes small circles into BJ's inner thigh with his thumb.

BJ whimpers, unable to help himself.

"For example," Hawkeye continues, "for the last week, all my fantasies have been about that absolutely gorgeous boy who kept staring at my cock in art class, and what he might let me do if I got him alone."

" _Fuck_."

"Now there's an idea."

If Hawkeye were to move his hand up just a little further, he'd know exactly the effect he's having. And if he offered to get BJ off right here in the middle of the coffeeshop, BJ isn't sure he would refuse. The idea makes his heart pound. His breathing is shallow and fast, and he can't seem to slow it down.

Then Hawkeye squeezes his leg and BJ has to bite his tongue or he's going to do something he really shouldn't. Even so, he lets out another desperate noise.

Hawkeye laughs softly, then leans in and brushes his lips so softly, so quickly against the corner of BJ's jaw, BJ would think he imagined the too-brief contact if it weren't for the way Hawkeye bites his lip after, the covetous look, the way he rubs his hand up and down BJ's thigh as if he read BJ's mind and is seriously considering fulfilling BJ's dirty little fantasy.

One last squeeze, then Hawkeye's getting up. "C'mon," he says, and BJ's following him before it even occurs to him to ask where they're going.

Yup. BJ is absolutely screwed.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawkeye's apartment building is not far from the coffeeshop, and butterflies are throwing a frat party in BJ's stomach as they walk up the six flights of stairs. He doesn't know how to act or what to expect, he's not even certain what he  _wants_  out of this situation. He thinks he wants to kiss Hawk, thinks it would be an excellent start, but beyond that, all the ideas he has are vague and terrifying, albeit also deeply appealing.

Hawk's fishing his keys out of his pocket as they arrive at his door, but when he looks at BJ, he stops short, like something on BJ's face has taken him by surprise.

"What?" BJ asks.

Hawkeye smiles at him, shakes his head wonderingly. "God, Beej," he says, shortening BJ's name casually and easily (it makes this feel so intimate), "do you have any fucking idea how adorable you are?"

BJ flushes again - he hasn't blushed this much in forever. "Uh."

"C'mere," Hawk whispers, then he's taking BJ's face in his hands, leaning in, kissing him softly, and it's a wonder BJ's legs don't give out and he's glad he's got something to lean on, because it's good, it's  _really_  good. He never wants it to stop.

Hawkeye kisses him into a needy puddle of want against the door, and in a vague, detached way, BJ thinks he should be concerned about the somewhat public nature of this display of affection, but it's impossible to care.

When they surface and BJ manages to peel his eyes open, Hawkeye's staring at him.

"Coffee?" Hawk says, his voice husky.

BJ swallows hard and nods. He's not committing to anything, right? Sure, he just  _had_  coffee, and he's certain Hawk is offering far more than a hot drink, but agreeing to an offer of coffee is not the same as saying 'Take me, I'm yours.' Right? Right.

(And sure, that's something BJ's terribly tempted to say, but he's trying desperately to restrain himself.)

Hawkeye keeps looking at him as he unlocks the door, as he lets them both in, as he closes it behind them. BJ can't break the eye contact.

It's a tiny studio apartment; BJ takes in just enough to notice Hawk's bed is  _right there_. They stare at each other, and there's a feeling in the air like a huge thunderstorm brewing. BJ  _wants_. Hawk glances at his lips, and BJ's breathing turns ragged.  _Ahhh, fuck_. This time it's BJ who cracks, looping his hand around the back of Hawkeye's neck and tugging him into a kiss that gets so hot, so fast, all BJ's common sense disappears into Hawk's mouth. Ten seconds ago - hell, five seconds ago - BJ was (relatively) calmly considering his response to the whole thing, making reasonably wise decisions, taking things slow, but now he's consumed by desperate need, raking his hands through Hawk's hair, fumbling with Hawk's clothing, pushing him down on the bed then climbing on top like he can't wait a second longer.

Hawkeye runs his hands up BJ's back under his shirt, drags his nails over BJ's skin, hard enough to make BJ whimper.  _Fuck_. Hawk laughs, then he's tugging at BJ's shirt and making a little frustrated noise when BJ doesn't immediately let him pull it off.

"C'mon," he whines (and whining should not be so attractive on  _anybody_ ), "you've seen me naked twice now, you owe me at least a look."

Blood rushes to BJ's face. Again. "I- fuck- I don't usually-"

Hawkeye smiles up at him. "No, you didn't strike me as a hookup kind of guy, though I'm more than happy to be the exception."

 _Oh, God_. BJ knows logically he has nothing to be embarrassed about, everyone has a first time, it's not like he's having a midlife crisis in his fifties. Still, a not especially small part of him wants to curl up and die.

"Iveneverbeenwithamanbefore," he mumbles.

Hawkeye screws up his face. "I'm sorry, what?"

 _Deep breath. You can do this. It'll be okay_. "I haven't, uh... with a guy before."

Hawkeye looks at him a moment longer, then he's smiling again, but thank God, it's a sweet, kind smile. "Your first time 'uh' with a man, huh? And here I was thinking you were being modest about not living up to your name." He pushes BJ's hair back from his forehead. "Well, I guess I better make it memorable," he whispers.

BJ doesn't know how to respond, but then Hawk's kissing him again, and it doesn't matter, because Hawk's taking it slow and gentle. The urgency hasn't faded, but it's easy to follow Hawk's lead, to sink into how warm and soft it is.

This time, when Hawk slides his hands up under BJ's t-shirt, BJ lets him strip it off, and when Hawk rolls them so he's on top, BJ doesn't protest. Hawk straddles him, rocks against his crotch, and BJ can't swallow the moan.

Hawkeye shakes his head. "God, you're beautiful," he says, almost reverent, as he runs his hand up BJ's chest. "I should be drawing  _you_. Everyone should be drawing you. Except I kinda wanna keep you all for myself."

He keeps up the motion of his hips, and BJ grabs fistfuls of the comforter because he has no fucking idea what to do with himself. Hawkeye traces the lines of BJ's body like he's memorising it, murmuring softly, and it takes BJ a minute to realise Hawk's reciting bones and muscles, that he evidently knows his anatomy.

It's obscurely arousing, and at the same time it makes BJ panic, because he's half naked and bucking up against a man he barely knows. How the hell does Hawkeye know this stuff? How did BJ somehow not manage to ask what his major is? BJ doesn't even know what his  _name_  is; surely Hawkeye is a nickname. Even if it's a given name, what's his surname? How did BJ end up in this position, and why isn't he doing anything about it?

The wise decision at this point would be to slow things down, but wisdom is particularly uninspiring as compared to how good this feels.

"Hawkeye?" he whispers.

"Yeah?"

"What's... what's your major?" He can't quite manage wisdom, but he's trying for common sense at least.

Hawk stops dead for a moment, then cackles before leaning down to kiss BJ again. He slides his hands down BJ's arms to rest warm and reassuring on BJ's where they're fisted in the bedclothes. "My major," he says between kisses, "is bio, and my name-" another kiss "-is Benjamin Franklin Pierce- and by the way, if you tell- another living soul that's my real name-" he grinds down a little too hard to be pleasurable, and laughs when BJ grunts "-well, I'll punish you."

Then he wraps his fingers around BJ's wrists, kisses BJ long and hard, and BJ's finding it really, really difficult to care that he doesn't actually know this man.

"Anything else you wanna know?" Hawk breathes against his lips.

BJ shakes his head and tilts his head up in a silent plea for more. Damn, Hawk is so good. His hips grind against BJ's slow and deliberate, and after a kiss that leaves BJ breathless, he arches up and swears eloquently. He's glorious like this, beautiful. BJ wishes could draw better so he could capture this moment on paper.

He runs his hands up Hawk's chest and pinches his nipples through the cotton. The sound Hawkeye makes is utterly abandoned and filthy and it's all so  _fucking_  sexy. BJ wants... more. Just more. "I want- I want to touch you," he manages. "C'mere. Please." He tugs on Hawk's shirt. Hawk rolls his eyes, but he's grinning, and he lets BJ pull him close and into another kiss.

BJ slips the shirt off, then he's stroking Hawk's skin, savouring all the things he's been studying so intently and hasn't been able to stop thinking about for the last week. He slides his hands up Hawk's back, explores his neck and shoulders, tugs gently on his hair. Hawkeye's reaction to that is promising, to say the least - he whimpers gratifyingly. BJ tangles his fingers in tighter and pulls harder; Hawk flings his head back and  _wails_.

 _Fuck_. It's so fucking hot. BJ feels both completely out of his depth and like he's struck gold. He keeps tugging with one hand as he slides the other tentatively down Hawk's rib cage and waist and hip, then over his butt.

Hawk whimpers again, dives in for another kiss, and writhes as BJ strokes little circles over the curve of his ass and down his thigh. BJ isn't quite ready to  _ask_  Hawk to take his pants off, but he's desperate enough he thinks it's only a matter of time before he tries himself.

"How far- how far have you gotten... with a man, I mean," Hawkeye asks between kisses, before licking BJ's throat and nibbling up under his chin.

BJ swallows hard. "Not-  _fuck_ \- just kissing- Oh  _God_ , Hawk," he says as Hawk nips at the corner of his jaw.

Hawkeye chuckles. "Oh, Beej. I have so much to show you," he murmurs into BJ's ear.

This is... fuck. BJ is going to  _die_.

While he's not thinking too much about it, before he can talk himself out of doing it, he's fumbling with Hawk's pants. It's tough one-handed and from the wrong angle, and he grunts, frustrated.

"Eager," Hawk says with a laugh. "Good to know." He deftly undoes them and strips them off, just as easily as he strips out of his robe in class, and BJ doesn't even have time to panic that he has a naked man on top of him because Hawk's stripping him down as well, and they're both naked. Having Hawkeye skin to skin feels amazing, and BJ doesn't have room for any self-consciousness.

BJ explores Hawk's lower back and ass and thighs, and isn't nearly done when Hawk sits up and out of reach. BJ whines, grinds up into Hawk's crotch, then whines harder when Hawk shuffles back so their cocks are no longer pressed together. "Please!"

Hawkeye grins slowly, looks down at BJ like he's a piece of particularly incredible art, runs a finger up the underside of his cock, and laughs incredulously. " _Fuck_ , Beej, how did I get this lucky? You're fucking gorgeous. God, tell me you'll fuck me sometime, Beej, please. I want your cock inside me so bad."

BJ gulps. He thinks his brain may have actually shorted out for a second. "What?"

Hawk smiles, amused, then leans down to nibble the side of BJ's neck. "Don't worry, we'll talk about it later. For now, let me suck you off?" Hawk whispers in his ear. "Best blowjob you ever had, I promise."

BJ can't speak, but he nods enthusiastically. Hawk's clever mouth on his cock sounds like heaven.

"Good. I can't  _wait_  to find out how you taste."

Hawkeye nips BJ's ear, then he's kissing and biting his way down BJ's neck and chest, making some of the filthiest noises BJ's heard in his entire life.

It's not as if BJ's an innocent, or that he hasn't had sex (he's had some very enjoyable sex, thanks very much), but Hawkeye's sheer enthusiasm for him, for his body, is leaving him lightheaded. It's intoxicating and exhilarating, especially since it's perfectly obvious this is something Hawk does... well, a lot.

(BJ's jealousy from earlier flares up again, alongside a jolt of fear that he's making a terrible mistake. Then Hawk sucks at the skin under his bellybutton, and fuck it, some mistakes are too good not to make.)

He can't watch when Hawkeye reaches his crotch. It's too intimate, too much. If he thinks too hard about this, he'll bolt, and he wants Hawk's mouth on him more than he's wanted anything in an age.

Hawk licks and nibbles his thighs, then nuzzles his balls and his cock, mouth open, breathing deeply, like BJ is the best thing he's ever smelled or tasted. BJ tangles his fingers in Hawk's hair and pulls, Hawk moans against the base of his cock, and BJ's not sure he'll survive this. He pulls harder as Hawk mouths at him, slow and thorough. Hawkeye laughs when he begs.

Finally,  _finally_ , Hawk wraps his lips around the head of BJ's cock, swirls his tongue over it and makes a happy noise, as if having BJ in his mouth is everything he wants in the world.

"Fuck, Hawkeye.  _Fuck_."

Hawk sucks like BJ's made of candy, like BJ's cock is so delicious he can't stop, and BJ has to bite his tongue so he doesn't come immediately. He wants this to last as long as possible.

When he manages to peel his eyes open, Hawk is gazing up through his eyelashes, looking both oddly innocent and absolutely obscene. He bats his eyes at BJ, and BJ honestly doesn't understand how it's legal for him to be so... so,  _fuck_ , so sensuous and mischievous and so fucking sexy as he laps at BJ's cock. Something about it seems to heighten all BJ's senses, amplify every touch. He doesn't know if it's the novelty of having another guy doing this, or if it's because it's Hawkeye, and Hawkeye has turned his brain inside out already. He can just barely keep his eyes from closing again, but screw self-consciousness; he wants to watch.

He twists his hands tighter into Hawk's hair and tugs, and Hawk moans even louder, and it's so fucking  _good_. Then Hawk's sliding his mouth down and down, and BJ didn't even know it was more than an urban legend that anyone could do this, but Hawk swallows him whole, watching his face the whole time. He cries out again when his cock hits the back of Hawk's throat, and when Hawk nuzzles his nose into BJ's happy trail, it takes everything BJ has to hold it together.

" _Fuck_ , Hawkeye."

Hawk blinks up at him, slow and sensual, and makes a noise of pleasure as he fucks BJ's cock with his mouth, long and slow and deep, then licks the head as if it's a melting ice cream, and all the time he's either looking up at BJ with that coquettish coyness, or closing his eyes, expression beatific, like he's savouring having BJ to suck on, like he can't imagine anything he'd rather be doing.

BJ's never had someone love on his cock like this, he has no defence against it. Hawk strokes his hands up BJ's thighs, tugs gently on his balls, digs his fingers into BJ's ass, and all the time he's licking and sucking and fucking  _swallowing_  BJ's cock.

Really, it's a minor miracle BJ lasts as long as he does, but there's only so much he can bear before he's twisting his hands in Hawk's hair and fucking Hawk's throat and coming to pieces, pleasure rushing through his whole body as he falls apart.

Hawk keeps going until BJ's soft, until he protests quietly because he thinks his brain might implode, then grins up at him. "Fuck, that was fun," he says, his voice rough.

BJ manages something that's basically a gurgle. He sounds like a blocked drain - he'd be embarrassed if he could summon up the energy.

Hawk kisses his way up BJ's stomach again, nuzzles at the hair on his chest, nips lightly at his nipple, and finally kisses him. There's a salty, musky taste in Hawk's mouth, and it takes BJ's pleasure-addled brain several kisses to figure out it's him, it's his come on Hawkeye's tongue, a thought that's more arousing than it has any right to be.

"You have an absolutely fucking  _gorgeous_  cock," Hawk says between kisses. "I bet you look glorious when you touch yourself."

BJ can't summon up the ability to speak.

"Maybe you'll show me sometime."

"God, yes," BJ manages. It's probably just as well he has hardly any breath, because the temptation to say 'I'll do anything you want' is almost unbearable.

"I'll look forward to it." Hawk smiles against BJ's lips. "Now that's my kind of art," he murmurs. "Someone should draw it. I can just see you with your head thrown back as you fuck your fist."

 _Jesus_. Hawkeye is going to  _kill_  him. "Can I- can I watch you sometime?"

Hawkeye laughs. "Sometime? Anytime." He pulls back just enough to grin down into BJ's face. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm a sucker for an audience. Especially one as cute as you, Beej."

BJ's never had a nickname before; he's starting to really love how 'Beej' sounds rolling off of Hawk's tongue. He grins back up at Hawk, laughs for no other reason than he feels so good right now.

"Oh God, BJ Hunnicutt," Hawk says, "all the things I'm gonna show you." He drops a kiss on BJ's cheek. (The gesture is surprising in its sweetness.) He laughs again, delightedly. "So, safe to say you've never fucked a guy."

The idea doesn't frazzle BJ quite as much as it did the first time. He shakes his head.

"You wanna?"

BJ lets out an involuntary moan and shudders.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes." Hawk sounds amused. "Which is good, because I've wanted you inside me since the first time I saw you."

BJ whimpers again, and Hawkeye nips his ear.

"I've been thinking about it all week," Hawk murmurs. "I owe you a whole fucking  _bunch_  of orgasms for the number of times I touched myself and imagined it was you, imagined what it would be like to have you spread out naked on my bed." He nibbles at the corner of BJ's jaw, and when he continues his voice is low and husky. "I came  _so_  damn hard when I imagined you fingering me and opening me up, when I imagined you pressing in, stretching me and filling me."

BJ's breathing is erratic and his whole body is hot. If Hawk's trying to make sure he gets hard again as soon as possible, he's definitely going about it the right way. "Fuck, Hawkeye."

"I really hope so," Hawk says with a laugh. "If it weren't for how badly I wanted to taste you, I would've gotten you to fuck me today, would've tried harder, found some way to-" he chuckles "- _convince_  you."

" _Fuck_."

"Next time." He nips at BJ's ear. "I can't wait. Your cock is magnificent, Beej," he whispers. "It's gorgeous, just like you, and so thick. I'll slide down onto it real slow and feel every inch, then I'll ride you harder than anyone ever has and make us both scream."

BJ kind of wants to say 'Fuck' again, but he's suddenly too short of breath. Instead, he nuzzles in and kisses Hawk's throat.

"Jesus, Beej. Oh God."

They kiss and touch and snuggle together, eventually ending up on their sides, face to face, Hawk hard against BJ's thigh. Fuck, if BJ thought seeing Hawkeye naked was good, being naked with him is absolutely incredible.

They make out for a while, slow, easy and comfortable. BJ discovers that Hawkeye is ticklish, and wandering hands prompt as much laughter as arousal. Eventually they wind up just looking at each other, nose to nose, grinning foolishly.

"I don't know about you," Hawk says softly, "but that was damn memorable for me." He sucks on his bottom lip as he studies BJ's face.

BJ nods. Memorable is an understatement. He kisses Hawk again. He can still taste traces of himself, and it's... God, he can't believe he came in Hawkeye's mouth, he can't believe Hawkeye let him, he can't-

"Shit," he says, as he thinks about it, "I never even told you, I'm uh- you know, clean." All the blood that was in his erection a few minutes ago now rushes to his face, and he's sure he must be a truly startling shade of red. Way to ruin a moment, not to mention completely failing as a considerate lover. (The notion of 'lover' referring to Hawkeye, even in his mind, makes BJ blush even more.)

Hawk smiles and brushes a hand through BJ's hair. "I figured," he says. BJ opens his mouth to protest the assumption, but Hawk ploughs on, "Not because I didn't think you're getting any action - I mean look at you, you could sleep with someone different every night if you wanted - but besides the misstep of getting in bed with a screw-up like me, I bet you're the thoughtful kind who always wears a condom and gets tested regularly." He kisses BJ's nose. "I trust you. Don't ask me why, call it a gut instinct."

BJ stares. He's not exactly an expert on communication, but he'd swear Hawk means every word. (BJ can't deny that Hawk has him pegged; he's always been careful with the few girls he's slept with.)

"I'm clean too," Hawk says matter-of-factly. "If you were, you know, worried. No point being the local slut if no one will fuck you because they're afraid to catch something."

There's a sadness in Hawk's self-deprecation, and it makes BJ reach out and pull him close and kiss him, soft and sweet. When they surface, Hawk blinks at him like he's realised something wholly unexpected, then he nestles into BJ's chest and sighs happily. He doesn't even mention the erection BJ can feel pressing against his leg, like getting to suck BJ off was enough for him, like he's already satisfied.

"Hawk?"

"Mmhm?"

"Will you- would you show me how you like to be touched?" BJ wraps his fingers tentatively around Hawk's cock, surprising himself how good it feels in his hand. "I- I wanna make you come."

Hawk looks up, blinks slowly. "You don't have to," he says. "I'm not exactly-" he shrugs.

"What if I want to?"

Another blink.

BJ swallows hard. "What if I spent a whole lot of time since I first saw you imagining how you sound when you come? Imagining how your face looks? Imagining it was me who'd made you fall apart?"

It's Hawk's turn to gulp. "Oh," he says, voice suddenly very quiet. "Oh. Okay." He fumbles in a drawer behind him and offers up a bottle of baby oil, but he holds BJ's gaze. It's... intense.

Neither of them speaks, like they might break the spell. Hawkeye guides BJ's hand, and his cock is hard and hot, and with each stroke, Hawkeye's eyelids flutter and he lets out a quiet, broken noise. He's so vulnerable, so open. So completely surrendered.

BJ wants to draw this, too. He presses their foreheads together. "You're beautiful," he whispers.

"Oh God, Beej." Hawk doesn't say anything else, but his breathy little moans and whimpers get gradually louder, he sounds more and more desperate, and BJ watches spellbound as Hawk wriggles and writhes, pumping up into BJ's fist, his head falling back, baring his neck, and it's too tempting to resist.

BJ kisses Hawkeye's throat, licks and sucks, and Hawk dissolves into a puddle. BJ suddenly remembers that faded hickey on Hawk's neck, and now he knows exactly what he wants. He wants to leave his mark on Hawkeye Pierce, prove he was here, in Hawkeye's bed. No matter who else might have been here before, no matter who might follow, next time he draws Hawkeye, he'll see the outline of his own mouth on Hawkeye's neck. The idea is unbearably hot. He buries his face in Hawkeye's throat and moans as he bites Hawkeye's skin.

He's probably going at it harder than he needs to, but Hawk arches up into it, tangling his hands in BJ's hair and scrabbling at the bedclothes with his feet.

"God, yes," he whispers when BJ nuzzles up right under his chin and nibbles at the tender flesh there, "oh fuck, Beej,  _fuck_ , harder," as if he's relishing being branded, as if BJ's mouth on his skin is driving him wild. "Oh God, oh God, don't stop. Feels so good, don't stop."

"You're absolutely fucking beautiful," BJ says again, and Hawk wails, so BJ keeps going, murmuring appreciation and admiration and encouragement into Hawk's skin. "Can't believe I get to do this."

Then suddenly Hawk's finding his mouth again, for a kiss full of teeth and tongue, crying out as he comes, biting BJ's lip, and fuck, it's incredible to be a part of it, to make Hawkeye come all over them both, to feel Hawk arch against his body, shaking, completely out of control. BJ keeps touching him until he pushes BJ's hand away.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he says as he gets his breath back.

For some reason, it strikes BJ as incredibly funny, and he starts laughing so hard he can't speak.

"Beej?" When BJ looks up, Hawkeye looks so confused, it makes BJ laugh even harder. "You're a little strange," Hawk says, head cocked to one side, "but I think I like it."

BJ pulls Hawk close, despite their mutual stickiness, and buries his face in Hawk's hair. (It smells just as good as he's been imagining for the last week.)

Eventually, Hawkeye tilts his head up, and they look at each other, no longer laughing. "Got any plans for the rest of the day?" Hawk asks, and although his tone is casual, his expression is not.

BJ doesn't have it in him to pretend, to say anything but the truth. He hopes Hawk won't be freaked out. "I plan to spend it naked in your bed."

Hawkeye smiles, wide, bright, and genuinely delighted. "What a coincidence," he says. "I plan to be naked in my bed, too. I guess we'll have to be naked together."

They grin at each other like idiots. BJ thinks taking a life drawing class may be the best decision he's ever made.

_~ fin ~_


End file.
